


And It Dies When You Die

by Sourstarbursts



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1930s, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Childhood Friends, First Kiss, Fluff, Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-17 17:33:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14836091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sourstarbursts/pseuds/Sourstarbursts
Summary: The story of Steve and Bucky, and their unavoidable, unconditional, everlasting love for one another. Story follows from different POVs at different points of the twos lives and relationship.More tags + characters are to come!





	1. I Knew It When I Met You

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so this is my first series fic so go easy on me!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First series ever so be nice 2 me!!
> 
> Chapter title: Runaways by The Killers

I met James ‘Bucky’ Barnes when we were both only 10 years old. 

We met before we were taught to listen closely to the first words you hear when you met someone. Before we even knew what the word ‘soulmates’ really meant. What the words engraved onto our arms since birth really meant. We met before all of that. Before we knew what the words ‘defect soulmates’ meant as well. 

We were in the fourth grade. I was the smallest kid in our class; I always had been, and even back then I still got myself wounded up in fights I'd never win. My mother had always told me that I ‘came out of the womb with my fists up’ and that's probably true. I'm a fighter by nature, I'd like to think I've always been righteous and ready to stand up to the bad and the mean, but Bucky thinks I've just always been stupid. Which is probably true as well.

One of my first fights I was in was with a boy named John. The boy who would end up antagonizing me my whole grade school life, until he eventually moved away to queens to live with his aunt when the depression hit. Which made me thankful for the stock market crashing. For a least a few months that is.

I've always sworn on my life; he started the fight. But looking back at it, more likely thanthan not, I did. 

At recess I sat alone. I'd draw pictures of different colorfulcolorful bugs I saw crawling in the dirt by the play structures, or the small flowers that sprouted in betweenin between the cracks of the sidewalk. I'd draw anything and everything; it was the most I could do at recess. Running around, playing ball, jumping rope all burned my lungs after too long. Even if I did try to play the way everyone else did, I'd just end up having to take frequent breaks, so I stuck to drawing.

While I stayed out of all the recreational activities other boys in my grade would participate in at recess, I had difficulties staying out of other people's business.

John proudly held the title as ‘Tallest Boy In Mrs.Davis’s Fourth Grade Class’, he also held the title as ‘Biggest Jerk In The Whole World’ in my 10 year old mind. It was common knowledge we both didn't get along. He picked on me and every other kid that didn't fit his definition of ‘normal.’ If you were small, or didn't fit in with other kids, or didn't have as nice as clothes as he did, you were most likely to be a victim of his endless teasing and mockery. Because that's the kind of person John was, the biggest jerk in my fourth grade world.

The famous day rests on the 20th of October. Cold enough for parents to dress their kids in jackets, hats, and scarves. But not cold enough where we would have to have recess inside. 

October was probably one of my favorite times of the year. When the leave on the trees would turn from green to a vibrant red. Red like the lipstick my mother applies before leaving to church, red like the stripes on the flag in our classroom. The leaves would fall onto rooftops of our school, and it was my most favorite thing to draw.

That's how my recess started. Sat on the bench of the playground, my small legs dangling not quite big enough yet to touch the ground. With the sketch book my father gave me for my last birthday perched up on my lap, my colored pencils in my hand as I scribbled messily the leaves on the top of the roofs. The chill air turning my nose and the tips of my ears a faint pink. I was in my prime. Before I heard the shrill cries of a girl by the short metal slide.

“Stop it, John!”

I put my sketchbook down on the bench and stand up to go investigate the noise. I knew someone was in trouble and that I had to help. Especially if John is involved in all of this.

“Hey! What's going on here?” I ask. I'm greeted by the sight of John with a hand in the girls hair, tugging violently at the brown locks. He has the hair in a tight grip, pulling the girl back where she can't escape without tugging all of the strands out of her scalp. Johns friends surrounded the scene, laughing along as John continues to cruelly hurt the girl.

He narrows his eyes at my question, like it's the dumbest thing he's heard all day. It probably is. That is if he doesn't listen to himself when he speaks.

“Just having a little fun with Suzy here. What's it to you?”  
“Let her go. Now.”  
“And why should I do that?”  
“Because…”

John laughs at my response, or lack thereof.

“What are you gonna do about? Fight me?”  
“Maybe I will!”

John smirks. He lets go of Suzy's hair, and she scatters away. The other boys surround John and I, hyping him up for the fight. Yelling encouraging words to him. He’s circling around me, looking me up and down like a hunter to its prey. John is hyping himself up as well. This would be my first fight, but it would also be John’s.

I cut to the chase and punch him square in the jaw.

He tumbled back, shocked by the fact I made the first move. I was too.I looked down at my fist, tingling with the impact of skin hitting skin. A bright red blush covers my knuckles. I look up at him. John was violently grasping at his jaw in pain. And then he pounces. 

He tries swinging at me but misses, he tries again, and misses. After several missed hits he goes for tackling me. Which he succeeds in. We both fall to the ground, wrestling and hitting one another liked you’d do with a brother or a friend. But this was anything but brotherly, his teeth are clenched in anger as he lets out frustrated groans. I’m panting heavily, trying to roll him off of me. 

It ends when he punches me in the gut, knocking the wind out of my lungs.

I gasp out, trying desperately to inhale and exhale. While i'm distracted by my own lack of breathing, John stands up and runs away from the scene, his friends following shortly behind. I'm not sure if he was running away from me, or the inevitable trouble we would both be in with Mrs.Davis. Either way,he ran away. Leaving me alone, laying on the sidewalk, and clutching my stomach. Trying to gather any breath I could possibly muster.

 

“Hey, you okay?”

Those three words. Those three words that are written in messy uneven handwriting on the back of my arm. Those three words that have been on my skin since birth, and that would be there until the day I die. Those are the words I hear. My mother had always told me about this day, said when I heard these words that means I would meet a very special person. The girl I would end up marrying. But when I looked up I saw no girl. Only a blue eyed boy with ruffled brown hair. 

Bucky Barnes. I knew his name and face. Hell, I saw him every day of the week. But I never talked to him. Bucky wasn't like me. He was athletic, he fit in with every other boy in our grade, and every girl has had a crush on since him since the beginning of the school year. This couldn't possibly be the ‘very special person’ my mother said I would meet. And no way was he the girl I would end up marrying. 

Bucky held a hand out towards me. He raised his brows when I sat there in shock looking up towards him, making no movement to take his hand. 

After a few enlongated moments I take the hand reached out in front of me. Bucky pulls me up so I can stand again. I let go of the hand he offered to me and I dust off my pants, dirty from the ground and roughhousing. My mom would tell me off when I got home from school, but that wasn't what I was worried about right now.

“I'm okay. Thank you.”

We stare at each other, processing everything that just happened, processing the that words we shared to the other. His face is unreadable. I'm scared of his response. That he'll freak out, be grossed out, or get angry. But, he doesn't. He smiles at me. I've always loved his smile, the way the corner of his eyes wrinkley, his crooked teeth showing, the way his face glows. I've always loved it, even after everything that's changed, after all the years together, his smile has always stayed the same.

“You sure got yourself in a situation there, huh?” Bucky states.

“He deserved it.”

“Yeah but you didn't.” 

I look up at him and say nothing. 

“But John is a huge jerk, I'll agree with you on that one.” 

“That's what I've been saying! Everyone's just blinded by how tall he is to see his jerky ways.” I exclaim. Bucky laughs boldly at that, throwing his head back. The joke wasn't even that funny, but from there on out I decided that I would do anything to hear that laugh again. 

“Or maybe everyone's blinded by how short you are to see what a great person you are.” I don't know weather to get offended by the short comment, or bask in the praise of being called a ‘Great Person’ by Bucky Barnes. I end up rolling my eyes at him. He laughs and starts to walk away.

“C’mon recess is almost over, don't wanna miss Mrs.Davis blabber on and on about the Civil War.”

I jog to catch up with Bucky. I follow him into the classroom.

This is the start of our friendship. And this would be the start of me following him to the end of the earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me!!
> 
> Tumblr: skinnybuckybarnes  
> Insta: groovy.virgo


	2. Oh Brooklyn,Brooklyn Take Me In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve’s 15th birthday celebrated in a super special way between him and Bucky.
> 
> In this chapter you will get to understand more about soulmates in this universe.

The first time I kissed Steve we were both 15.

It was the in the beginning of July; Steve’s birthday. The air hot and sticky and the sun warming my skin. I love summer. Since we met, every one of Steve’s birthdays we would go down to spring creek; a river a couple miles away from where we both lived. And that's where we were today.

Spring creek has always been a home away from home for Steve and I. The vibrant green trees towering above us. The constant sound of the river water flowing against the rocks. We were completely alone together. We were allowed to be ourselves, allowed to roll up our sleeves showing our tattoos, allowed to show affection. 

We'd take off our shirts and splash in the river. We'd tackle, rough house, and play with each other until Steve felt too tired to go on. And then we'd lay on the rocks. Shirts off with water still dripping from skin, drying underneath the blazing sun. Steve would draw me as I'd stare and point out shapes in the clouds until I eventually fell asleep. After he was done he'd put away his pencils and lay next to me as I slept, sometimes he would throw an arm around me and fall asleep with his face buried in my shoulder. We would wake up hours later, when the sky was turning pink and we knew Mrs.Rogers would be angry about how late it was when Steve came home. But we didn't care. We'd laugh the whole way home.

Today was Steves 15th birthday, and it was a special one. For some reason Steve felt turning 15 ment he really was a ‘man’ now and not a boy. When I picked up Steve from his parents apartment he wasn't any different. Sometimes I wonder if Steve thought he would wake up on his 15th birthday immediately big and buff and a man. Because when he opened the door his head hung low and his face was painted with the look of disappointment.

But, his face quickly turned into excitement, once I told him I had a present for him.

“What? How? How did you afford a present?” He said, as he closed the door behind him and followed me down the apartment stairs.

The truth was I really could afford it, Steve to this day still thinks I went a week without food because I got him a present. But I could afford it, because I didn't buy it. I stole it. 

During the depression presents for holidays, birthdays, celebrations was basically nonexistent without going into some kind of deep dept. For two years Steve went without any presents for his birthday, no one could afford it, and Steve didn't complain and wasn't bothered by it, but I was. I love seeing Steve happy. I love spoiling him and making him feel good. I just really wanted Steve to have a present for his birthday, especially a birthday that was that special for Steve.

So I stole oil pastels from a fancy art store downtown. I grabbed it from the shelf while the owner was occupied with another customer and shoved it up my shirt. Now the box of colorful pastels rest in my backpack, wrapped up in brown paper with string tied in a bow in the middle. A letter messily written in blue pen right next to the package.

“I have my ways.” I smirk.

“Buck, seriously you didn't have to do that for me.” Steve sighs looking up at me.

I stop in my tracks and smile at him, I rub his arm reassuringly. 

“Don't worry about it, kid. You deserve It.”

“You didn't have to.”

“I wanted to. When you're happy, I'm happy.” I drop my hand from his shoulder and continue walking. “Cmon now, you can open your present when we get to the river.”

 

When we arrive at spring creek I lazily toss my bag onto the grass next to the stream. I sit down cross legged and unbutton my dress shirt sliding it off my shoulders. I feel Steves eyes staring at the muscles of my back. I turn my head around and motion for Steve to come here. He walks over and sits down with a crooked smile covering his face. 

“So what do you want to do first? Open your present or swim?” I ask him. He shrugs looking away.

“I know you wanna open your present Steve.” I say, he blushes and laughs lightly.

“Okay. Yeah, yeah. I do. A lot.”

I reach for my bag and open the flap, I grab the present in one hand. I hesitate before deciding to not to give Steve the letter right now. I'll give it to him later, I tell myself. It's not the right time now.

I hand the package over to Steve and he takes it out of my hand. I watch him as he carefully unites the string and opens the neatly wrapped package. I roll my eyes fondly.

“Just tear it open, punk.”

Steve smiles and huffs but follows my instruction and rips the paper. His eyes widen as he looks down at the present.

“Bucky…” His eyes stayed glued to the pastels, he opens the box examining all the colors. “This must have been so expensive.”

“Don't sweat it kid, only the best for my Stevie.” 

He places the box next to his thigh and reaches out and hugs me. He wraps his skinny arms around my neck, I pull him closer and nuzzle my nose into his neck.

“Thank you, Buck.”

“Like I said, don't sweat it.”

He pulls back and smiles at me, his arms still wrapped around my neck.

“I think I wanna take you up on that swim now.”

“Alright, only if you promise me you'll draw me with your new pastels after.”

“I can't dream of doing anything different.”

 

We undress. Slipping off our shoes, socks, pants, and undershirts. We stand together, in nothing but our tighty whities. 

I run towards the river and hop in. The water is not deep at all, only coming up to my mid stomach, but deep enough that it splashes Steve when I jumped in. He follows my lead and comes in with me, he swims over to where I am and tackles me in the water.

I laugh loudly trying to pry him off me while he's trying to force my head under the water. I kick him off me then splash him while he's off guard. Steve being the punk he is, splashes me back, triggering a full on splash war between the two of us. 

We go back and forth, splashing each other and giggling. I, of course had the biggest splashes but who's keeping score (me, I am, I'm keeping score). The war ends after I take a big gulp of air then dive under the water.

Steve looks around confused, trying to find me underneath the foggy waters surface. He repleadly calls out my name trying to find me. I swim up behind him and wait a few moments, for the suspense factor, and then attack.

I burst out of the water yelling out “AARRRRUUUGGHHH” and grap Steve by the sides pulling his back towards my chest. Steve yells out in surprise. He screams, all high pitch like a girl. I laugh and grip him closer to me.

“Bucky! Don't do that you scared me!” He turns around in my arms facing me, I don't let go of him, still holding the small of his back.

“Aw Stevie was I that scary? Like a big old monster?”

“No not that! I thought you died!”

“You thought I died after holding my breath and deliberately going underwater?” I smirk at him, he rolls his eyes in annoyance.

“You were under for so long…”

“It wasn't that long kid.”

“It was like three minutes!” 

“Steve, I don't really trust your perception of time.”

He pouts looking away, Steve hates being wrong. He'd do most anything before admitting he's wrong. I smile at him fondly in the utter disbelief that he's angry at me, but I know he can't stay mad at me for long. Especially with the signature ‘Barnes Charm’ that works so well on him.

“You know I'd never leave you alone, doll. You ain't gotta worry about me dying, I'm never gonna stop annoying you.” I say. He blushes at the nickname and rolls his eyes, this time in loving annoyance.

“Shut up.” 

“I mean it, Steve.”

He looks up at me, I could stare at those baby blues all day. He bites his lip looking away while blushing. What can I say? Barnes Charm always works.

I take Steve hands in mine and place them on my shoulders. I place my palms back onto his hips and smile down at him. His pink cheeks turning red.

“Wow, smooth. You do this move on all the pretty girls at school?” Even as embarrassed as he is he still finds it in him to snark me. 

“Nah, just the pretty boys.”

“Oh, really? How many pretty boys you doin this with?”

“Well, just one.”

“Do tell me what he's like.”

“Well he's kind of a dumb punk, like real priggish and what no-” Steve narrows his eyes at me, “but, handsome, real smart and creative. Always stands up for what's right. He's also got an amazing a-” Steve shuts me up by pulling my neck down to him and slamming his lips against mine. 

My eyes bulge in surprise. My body soon melts into Steves, closing my eyes and kissing him back with passion. I'd never done this before, neither had he.My hands shook under water in excitement and nervousness. It was sloppy and gross and our teeth knocked into each other as Steve tries to shove his tongue down my throat, but I wouldn't want this with anybody else in the world. Not even knee weakening handsome Clark Gable. 

Steve pulls back. I'm dizzy from his kisses. Eyes blown, face drooping lazily, and red spit covered lips. I probably look disgusting, but Steve looks up at me like I've hung the stars for him. He kisses me quickly on last time then let's go of me, I drop my hands from his waist. He gets out of the river, shaking the droplets of water out of his locks like a golden retriever would. 

“Cmon, I'm gonna draw you.”

I follow him out hastily. Sitting down across from him as he pull his sketchbook out of his own bag and grabs the pastels from where he left them. He sits up, leaning against a tree, his knees bent and the sketchbook laying across them. As he’s situating he stops and looks at me.

“I want to draw you laying down.” Steve tells me, I fall into my back arms resting on my stomach. 

We sit in comfortable silence. Every so often Steve will tell me to move my hands or head or legs a certain way and I would comply. I lay there, listening to the dull sound of the oil pastels rubbing the paper. I’m excited to see the finished piece. Steve only keeps getting better and better in art as years go by, he’s gifted in art, in everything he does really.

I languorously move my arms above my head and stare at the ink which stains my skin. The careful handwriting in black letters. 

In school we have learned about what our tattoos mean already. What a soulmate is, what the words on your body ment, and what a defect soulmate was. 

Soulmates was the one person who you’d be with till death, the person you fit perfectly with and will love forever. They were the person you’d get married to, and would raise kids with. The tattoo on your body said the first words your soulmate would ever speak to you. When you met this person, you’d instantly fall in love with them and would eventually marry.

What Steve and I were, were defects. Flaws in the oh so perfect system that couldn’t even be explained by science. The matchmaking system set up by the universe or god or whatever. The system that was said to ensure the happiness of mankind.

Which it did, except for the defects.

There’s were two types of defect. Soulmates with tattoos written in red ink rather than black, that meant that either you or your soulmate would die shortly after meeting. Steve and I were lucky enough to not have gotten that, a boy in our grade hadn't been so lucky though. The red ink across his upper neck reading ‘Don’t let go! The firemen will be here soon!’. Since the day he came to our school, everyone cast pitiful looks his way whenever his neck was exposed.

That leaves the last defect, two same sex soulmates. It had been taught in schools forever, soulmates were between a boy and a girl. Because only a boy and a girl could ever reproduce. Two boys and two girls soulmates were defects only making up a small percentage of the population. 

Ever since Steve I were taught about what we were, we both silently agreed to cover up our tattoos. Whether it was out of shame of being an outcast or the fear of someone seeing our tattoos together and then placing two and two together, I couldn’t tell. But that’s what we did, what we were forced to do, cover up when we were together.

None of our friends or family knew, except Sarah Rogers, who was a someone that had placed two and two together. When she saw my arm one day while I was helping her cook, she had instantly recognized her own son’s handwriting.

 

“I like the way your handwriting looks.” I tell Steve. He stops drawing and looks up at me. 

“I like yours too.” He smiles at me and we lock eyes.

“I know, we never really talk about this, or even really acknowledge this, but I’m glad your my soulmate, Stevie.” My heart is warm as I stare at his half dried hair, the way his pruney fingers clutch the edges of the sketchbook. I really do love him, I love everything about him.

“Even though we’re….”

“I’d still love you if my tattoo was written in red.” 

He gasps softly and looks down at his drawing. 

“I love you too, Bucky.” He says quietly. 

I smile and turn my head back forward where I had been staring at the clouds, I put my arms behind my head laying on them and Steve goes back to quietly sketching me.

I think back to the letter to Steve that sits in my backpack. My mind screams at me to give it to him now, but I just can’t. Later, I tell myself. I’ll give it to him later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwah! I’m gonna be posting a light hearted 50s AU pretty soon so stay tune for that if you like that sorta jazz! 
> 
> Tumblr: skinnybuckybarnes   
> Insta: groovy.virgo

**Author's Note:**

> Comment/kudos are appreciated very much!!!
> 
> Tumblr: Skinnybuckybarnes  
> Insta: groovy.virgo


End file.
